


Perfume

by CircleReadd



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 12:41:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17662841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CircleReadd/pseuds/CircleReadd
Summary: You give Papyrus a piece of card with a sample of your perfume, for him to keep with him through out the day.





	Perfume

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote most of this during tube journeys to and from work, and it was a lot of fun. Simple, pure and wholesome fluff. Enjoy!

“Here, try this.”

Papyrus had expressed an interest in your perfume. You had spritzed yourself on your neck and wrists as part of your morning routine and the tall skeleton had keened his attention to you, watching you fondly as he buttoned up his shirt.

“That smell always makes me feel happy,” he’d commented, once again charming your heart with a quirky, unexpected statement. His expression intensified with his interest, moving his face closer to yours “Is there a way for me to smell that smell whenever I want to?”

Human technology was amazing. But not quite THAT amazing. 

You beckoned him to bend down towards you, when you noticed that he had, distractedly, buttoned his buttons incorrectly. He followed your gesture and you began to undo the shirt, fixing it into its proper place for him as you answered “If you want, I can spray some on a bit of card for you to keep in your pocket. It’ll only last a day or so, though.”

He had eagerly accepted your offer with a vigorous nod of his head, frowning with his intent and excitement. You finished fixing his shirt, and then proceeded to dig around for a scrap of paper or card. Upon discovery, you tore off a square corner, grabbed your bottle of perfume, and sprayed it with the scent.

“Here, try this,” The story a-loop. Papyrus plucked the square of card gingerly from your fingertips, to study it carefully in his own as you continued “This is what they do in department stores. They spray a sample onto a piece of card, for you to sniff and have a think about at your leisure, so you can decide whether you want to buy the perfume or not.”

“Interesting,” the skeleton voiced, before bringing the corner to his nasal cavity and giving it an experimental sniff. His expression didn’t read as satisfied “... It smells different from when I smell you.”

“Unsurprising,” you countered, focusing passively on the rest of your morning routine as you brushed your hair, and pouted contemplatively in the mirror “Perfumes tend to mingle with your natural scent. So, even though they smell one way in the bottle, they will smell different from person to person based on their own personal musk.”

Papyrus gave another sniff of the card, before his disappointment inspired an attempt at a creative solution “Is there a way to bottle THAT as well?”

“No,” you glanced at him over your shoulder as he pouted at the sample “... Throw it away if you don’t want it.”

He shook his head so hard you thought his skull might spin off.

Papyrus kept the piece of card you had given him guardedly upon his person, giving it the occasional sniff, throughout the day, every time he had room to think about it. One when he first got into his car. Another when he pulled into the University car park. A third as he was waiting to go into his class. In moments of stillness, at random intervals, the skeleton would think of you, happiness blooming across his chest and mouth turning with smiles, and he would take pause to sample your perfume.

It was a good smell. Not quite the smell of you, but definitely the smell of being around you, which was also pretty good. The smell of mornings with you. The smell of routine, waking up beside you, kisses goodbye, sweet see-you-laters. The smell of date-night, pensive excitement. Getting ready. He thought of your pretty face as you put on makeup in the mirror.

His day was long; culinary classes throughout the day and then a waiting-shift at the restaurant to contribute towards funding said classes. In his naturally sunny-disposition, it was unusual for Papyrus to ever really have a bad day, but this was probably the closest he could get. He stumbled while taking a customer’s food to their table, before tripping and throwing pasta over both them and himself. He apologised profusely, totally flustered as he went and snatched a decent stack of napkins and offered them to the disgruntled customer.

“I do apologise, I-I will get you a new plate and remove it from your bill. It’s on the house!” He had to banish the thought that his brother would probably finish that sentiment with “Actually, it’s on you.” 

He hastened to the kitchen to explain the situation, then sheepishly asked another waiter to take over for him for a short time while he cleaned himself up.

His heart raced with stress and embarrassment, and he felt his good mood sinking as he reflected on the events of what just happened, tiredness overcoming him as he rested his aching back against the lockers in the changing room. He wanted to call you, but he didn’t have time on top of cleaning up, so he settled for pulling the piece of card out of his pocket and holding it to his nose, eyes closed.

The smell had faded considerably. It was nice; it was your perfume, but it wasn’t the same. And it hadn’t been the same to begin with. He sniffed sadly, feeling tired and flustered and put-out, and his mood sunk into a gloom, resolute.

He was desperate to get home, where you would be waiting for him on that old, warn couch in his and his brother’s living room. Papyrus managed to swallow his embarrassment and sadness effectively enough to get him through the rest of his shift, but it began to manifest in the form of a lump in his throat as he got changed in the locker room, threatening to spike tears in his eyes as he rushed to his car, shakily jimmying the keys in the lock, starting the ignition and pulling out of the car park as quickly and as sensibly as the law would allow him.

He had been fine enough, but now the thought of emotional release, of kind touches and kisses, had him damn-near spilling over the edge, driving home, his hands fidgeting restlessly on the steering wheel. When he had to stop at a red light, he took the opportunity to take a quick sniff of the scented piece of card, but it was fruitless. It didn’t smell of anything anymore. Not even not-you.

You practically jumped out of your skin, jostled from your doze on the sofa, when the sound of the front door being thrown open slammed through the house.

“Papyru-?”

You didn’t even have time to finish the question of his name before he’d thrown himself towards you on the sofa and curled up in a ball with you in his arms. He held you so tightly, his eyes scrunched shut and his breath squeezed to a halt as your mind boggled for what on earth could possibly be wrong.

And then he hiccupped.

“... Papyrus,” your heart broke into a million pieces as his shoulders began to shake, with stiff, silent sobs, and you clung to him as tightly as you could.

When you cried, Papyrus cried. And when Papyrus cried, you cried.

And so you both wept emotionally together on the sofa for a few minutes, holding on to the other as though your lives depended on it. You had no idea why - you were confused and a bit scared - but sense left as the tears spilled and your tiny voices whimpered.

You allowed this little leak of emotion to run its course before you sucked in a deep sniff and pried his face out of you shoulder, holding it tenderly in your hands.

“Papyrus, what’s happened?”

“I’m sorry,” he sniffled, taking your own face in his grasp and wiping your tears with his thumbs “Oh, honey, please don’t cry!”

“I can’t help it!” you whimpered, fresh tears stinging your eyes “ _You’re_ crying! My poor baby, I hate it!”

“ _I_ hate it! My darling, you’re breaking my heart!”

“You’re breaking...! My...!”

You clung to each other again in a tangled heap of arms and legs and both wailed at the sheer devastation of seeing the other so upset, before you attempted, again, to get some sense out of him.

“Papyrus,” came your pleading sob “We’ve gotta stop. Tell me what’s wrong, we can’t cry in circles all night.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” he sniffled again, sitting up so he could furiously scrub his face of tears with his hands. He took a deep, shaking breath, to calm himself enough to assure you “Nothing is wrong. I’ve just had a bad day, and I wanted to see you _so_ badly. I got a bit overwhelmed.”

You sighed in relief, but then gave his shoulder a light shove “I thought something horrible had happened! Don’t scare me like that!”

“Everything is fine, honest! I’m sorry for scaring you,” his voice quaked “I just love you a lot.”

Your heart bled “I love you, too.”

You pushed yourself up from where he’d left you on the sofa and climbed into his lap, smooching a kiss to his bony, white cheek before cocooning yourself in his long, spindly arms “Tell me everything.”

So, he did. Papyrus told you all about his long, tiring day, relaxing his aching back against the support of the couch, cradling you against him as you hummed and nodded in listening acknowledgement of his story. And as the story went on, the skeleton, as you both knew he would, gradually began to feel better, able to reflect not only on the bad and stressful, but also the things that had made him smile and laugh throughout the day. He told you all about his friends from class, and the delicious things they’d made. He told you about his co-worker who had kindly taken his break in the company of an elderly regular at the restaurant, who always ate alone. He saw the goodness and the kindness and the happiness in his day and you rubbed his arm encouragingly with one of your sweet, warm smiles that he loved so dearly.

You told him about your day, too, sharing anecdotes that sprouted from his own plot points, and as the hour drew on, Papyrus softly realised that his upset had washed away, and he felt so much better, his heart warm and full with the interaction.

It was so good to see you.

Eventually, conversation settled into a satisfied silence as you each closed your eyes and rested against each other, his head atop yours as you leaned into his chest, your breathing deep and slow. He squeezed his hug around you, more tightly, his smile broadening as he felt you kiss his chin.

“Oh,” your eyes flickered open as you were disturbed by him shifting, digging his hand into his pocket and then holding something up in front of your face “This was a bit of a bust.”

It was the piece of card you had given him this morning with the sample of your perfume. You laughed a little, surprised he still had it, as you simply asked “Oh?”

“Yeah. It just wasn’t the same!” he exclaimed with a shrug, letting you pluck it from his fingertips “Sure, it smelled nice, but I suppose I didn’t quite get what I wanted out of it.”

“And what was that, my dear?” you hummed, twiddling the card in your grasp, thoughtfully.

“To feel closer to you.”

“Oh, bless you,” you breathed, your heart swelling. You pressed a kiss to his teeth, a cute giggle squeaking out of him.

“It doesn’t even smell of anything, now!”

“I told you it wouldn’t last,” you sniffed it experimentally.

“I sniffed it all day long, and then when I was really sad in the car home, I sniffed it again and it smelt of nothing! As you would say, I was totally gutted!”

“Yes, that does sound very gutt _ing_ , my darling,” you agreed with a solemn nod. He nodded along with you like you were both members of a very serious council of elders, before you broke into a grin “C’mon, you silly sack of bones, I’m hungry. Let’s eat cereal and go to bed.”

“Yes, good idea. Were it not so late, I would make you spaghetti, but I think on this occasion I’m going to have to bow out of the noble task, I’m afraid.”

“I think I’ll be fine, just this once, Papyrus. I’ve got spaghetti coming out of my damn ears.”

“What are you talking about?! Your ears are very clean!”

You liked cocoa pops with ice-cold milk, while Papyrus was more partial to a nice, hot bowl of oatmeal. The one with the dinosaur eggs in. You had never even heard of it before you’d met the tall skeleton, but as soon as you were clued up, his consumption of it became a ritual you both shared. You religiously marvelled, together, over each and every bowl as the little sugary dinosaurs appeared from within their dissolving eggs and surfaced in all the colours of the rainbow on the mushy, oat-y plane. And this evening was no different. He gingerly fed you all the green ones that appeared within his bowl. Green was your favourite colour, after all. And then with each dinosaur he delivered, you rewarded him a kiss before continuing with your own bowl of cereal until he found another.

You weren’t really sure why this was a thing that you would do, but how could you complain? If it was an excuse for you to kiss him, or an excuse for him to be kissed by you, well, there was no reason for anyone involved to question it.

Happiness lived between you as you sat at the kitchen table and ate, side by side. And then it joined you up the stairs, sitting in the air pocket of his hand clasped in yours. It sung in your voices as you hummed together through foamy toothpaste, brushing your teeth. A spit. A kiss. Two, clean grins in the mirror.

And so to bed.

Papyrus had long set aside for you a couple of empty drawers in his dresser, for you to store some of your clothes when you stayed over. It was regularly enough, now, where it made sense, and when he had unveiled the inclusion, you were thrilled that he had decorated the drawers in celebration, a string of bunting on each that read “DRAWER SWEET DRAWER”. You kept them up and smiled every time you knelt to pull out something to wear. Tonight was no exception as you fished for fresh pyjamas.

“Let me help, let me help,” Papyrus insisted, as you’d unbuttoned your dress and was about to pull the top, beneath it, up over your head. He threw his arms up in the air, in suggestion that you do the same, and you rolled your eyes, smirking as you followed suit “Yay!”

The skeleton bent down and kissed you, before grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling it off, you yawning as you came free. The shift of air and fabric sent a smell drifting in a cloud over Papyrus’ face, and he paid little mind as you unclipped your bra and went about slipping into your pjs. He focused, instead, on the shirt in his hands with a curious expression, then raised it dubiously to his nose.

“… This is more like it!” he exclaimed, as you pulled your pyjama trousers up with your back to him, the popped your head out of the top of a t-shirt “ _Your top_ smells of you!”

“Well, I imagine it would, I’ve been wearing it all da- Papyrus, get your face out of there!”

You’d turned around to catch your boyfriend with his face pressed into your unclean shirt, inhaling deeply, his voice muffled as he groaned “ _Ugh,_ it smells so _good!”_

“I can assure you it does _not_ smell good, you big weirdo,” you protested, jumping up to grab at his arms in a futile attempt at snatching it from him, but he brushed you off like a mosquito “I could _smell_ myself on the bus home, today, and I couldn’t be bothered to take a shower when I got here. There is _no way_ that that thing smells good.”

“It is the best thing I have ever smelled, and it is mine, now,” Papyrus replied petulantly with a short nod of his head, before obstinately taking another big, dramatic sniff “Mmmm! _So_ good. Truly, Eau de Reader should be bottled and sold by the thousands. To me!”

“Shut your big, dumb mouth, you obnoxious tease,” you jumped up again, and he snatched you in mid-air, making you squeak as he cocooned you in his grasp and held you close. You could feel yourself blushing as he held you up to his face, expectantly.

“I want kisses,” he said, plainly.

How could you help but reward his bad behaviour?

After a few dozen bedtime kisses, the light had been switched off and Papyrus was putting you both to bed, laying down with you still fixed in his grasp, before pulling the covers over you both and curling up with you like you were his teddy bear. You pulled the blankets even further over your heads, creating a den for telling secrets.

“You always smell nice, too, Papyrus,” you whispered, sweetly.

“Really?” he heard your head move against the pillow in a nod, in the dark “Wowie.”

“Your scarf holds it really well,” you mused “The smell, I mean.”

“Fascinating… So, if you were to wear my scarf, tomorrow… Would you be able to smell me all day?” he heard you nod again, with a tiny hum “Well then! Consider yourself accessorised, my darling.”

“Oh, Pap, you don’t have to do that, it’s your trademark!”

“Oh, I’m fully aware! But once you are done wearing it, it will smell of you!”

“Ah. The ulterior motive.”

“It’s true. My heart, I couldn’t bear to deceive you.”

You had to try really hard not to make too much noise as you shook with laughter, making the covers quake and love swell across the skeleton’s chest. Happiness bloomed in his heart as he pulled you ever-closer and held you tightly against him. He kissed you till you fell quiet and still, your only movement being the slow, deep rise and fall of your chest as you entered your dreams.

You were warm and soft and lovely, and Papyrus adored you so.

He drifted off to the sound of you lightly snoring.

And the smell of you smelling of you.


End file.
